


BloodLust

by saturninesunshine



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M, idk retrospective stuff i guess, post season two, pre season three, the golden age that we never saw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1225282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturninesunshine/pseuds/saturninesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He’s insanely jealous and it’s getting on my nerves. I don’t want him getting crazy violent whenever a boy undresses me with his eyes, which happens all the time. It’s not my fault. I can’t help it. God made me fabulous."</p>
<p>So Logan had a type.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BloodLust

**Author's Note:**

> Here's just a little thing I banged out. Rewatching the show and I get inspired. The quote is from Lord of the Bling, 1x13. Just a little Logan jealousy to get your heart pumping. And Veronica's POV about things I made up. I have no claim over these characters, I just love them too much.

_He’s insanely jealous and it’s getting on my nerves._

_I don’t want him getting crazy violent whenever a boy undresses me with his eyes, which happens all the time. It’s not my fault. I can’t help it. God made me fabulous._

So Logan had a type. That’s the only thing that Veronica thought to herself. Lilly’s voice always trilled through her mind at times like these. But then she had to wonder.

Lilly most likely hadn’t walked into the Fitzpatrick bar and almost got her face tattooed. Or maybe she had. Veronica wouldn’t put anything past Lilly. 

And still…

There was still the night on the roof to consider. Even though Logan and Duncan had gotten into a fistfight over some vague thing she never bothered to ask about, from what she understood of the chain of events while Logan had provoked him, Duncan was still the one who threw the first punch. 

Whenever Logan got _crazy violent_ as Lilly liked to put it, Veronica always recalled her own life being in some sort of mortal peril. 

And maybe that was just his personality. There was the night on the Coronado Bridge, the exact spot where his mother had jumped. There was bashing Veronica's headlights, altercations with Weevil, and even the biker Hector who quipped about Logan's mother.

The thing about Logan was that he had a hot temper and Veronica knew that he had been lucky to survive the bridge that night. He had been lucky that the Fitzpatrick’s hadn’t sliced his face open. He had been lucky that it wasn’t him that Cassidy had tried to taze over the edge of the hotel that night.

So god damned lucky. She had been cruel about it. _Poor little rich boy_ she said scornfully. He would even provoke people to violence against his own person on purpose like Duncan and potentially Mr. Casablancas. Poor little rich boy. But she had been angry at him then. Angry that he was so cavalier about sex and maybe even cavalier about her when she was the one who had started being so cavalier. Duncan had been better for her at the time, but Logan was Logan. That shouldn’t be an excuse, but it still made her cry. Finding him in pieces after the PCHers had brutalized him. Screaming at him for sleeping with Kendall. And crying in his Xterra.

He had put a hand on her shoulder and she had to shake him off. He was so damn _casual_ about it. _Oh, the gun wasn’t loaded. Great, Logan. So if they pulled one on you, you’d just be blown to pieces and covering me in your blood with no way to fight back._

She cried. She cried and she knew she was in trouble. She was in trouble with Duncan and she was in trouble with Logan. Crying because this poor little rich boy was going to get himself killed.

She _cared_.

Damn him, she cared about him in a way she could never care about anyone else. That was the whole issue.

Was that it? Was that the pull that Lilly and Logan had for each other? He screamed and beat people up while she slept with bikers. They kept coming back to each other so it must have been something special, right?

(Veronica kept letting Logan back into her life and it scared her more than anything that she was somehow Lilly 2.0)

She didn’t think she would end up with an ashtray buried in her skull, but there was still something disconcerting about it. 

But then again, there was a difference. She was still here. She was watching her boyfriend twitching with his telltale signs of violent rage and she wasn’t about to go screw a biker, right? Or a middle aged actor or anything of the kind.

She was just frozen in place.

_No, Veronica, this isn’t getting on your nerves. It’s just reminding you that we all live in this mortal coil and someday we are all going to die. (_ Being jaded was sort of part of the job description.)

She just didn’t want Logan’s someday to be right this second. What scared her even more was the notion that she wouldn’t be able to handle it if that happened.

First Lilly and even Logan’s mother had perished at the hands of Aaron Echolls.

Logan had put his hand on her shoulder in his car and told her everything was going to be okay. He thought she was crying for herself that she almost got a free facial tattoo. _But no, Logan. It was all for you. Your inflated ego should have guessed that much._

Maybe she would let him hold her now, if things would come down to it. She could let him in, but he would always have those contrasting facets. Lynn and Aaron. Love and hate. Vulnerability and violence.

If she held him right now, she wondered if he would walk away.

But he was already panting in exertion, and not in the way you would think. His knuckles would be bruised tomorrow and she would roll her eyes. But then again, she chose him. She _chose_ him.

What other life could a tenacious detective have. _Really_.

There was scotch on his breath, but not so much that he was out of control. Just limbs akimbo as per usual. If she tasted his lips, they would be metallic and deadly.

He spit red.

Lilly wouldn’t even consider caring at this point. She would have just walked away. Would her best friend’s heart have been hammering like this? Would she have ever been on the verge of distress?

Annoyance. That’s what Lilly had felt. 

“You’re lying to yourself if you think this is out of nobility.” She heard how her own voice was hard, but Logan still grinned at her, his teeth tinted with blood. 

She could feel his heart pounding with hers and she didn’t now why she felt so flustered. Her dress was black and not too short, but it clung to her and she felt naked beneath his gaze.

(She was always naked beneath his gaze, if she was being honest.)

His kiss was hot against her neck and she didn’t need any of that. She pushed him away but she could still feel his heart against her chest and she didn’t know why she felt like this was too private for it to be in such a public place.

That was the whole problem. The guy whose face Logan had slammed his fist into had looked at Veronica the same way and that’s how all this started.

No nobility. No defending her honor. Just hot lust and she wished that she were alone. 

Alone with Logan and that was worse. Somehow, she had gotten him back up into the hotel room.

“I told Duncan you would have been impressed.” 

“What?”

“You’re not like Lilly, Veronica." His eyes were probing.

She was always naked in front of him.

"This isn’t…" He rubbed his forehead. The scotch was wearing off. "I loved her. You know I did. But we wouldn’t have lasted. She… jerked me around. Always did. Lilly was bored about how much I cared about her. But when Duncan hit me for the things I said when you two were together, I told him you would have been impressed.”

“Do I?” Veronica asked tentatively.

“Do you what?”

“Jerk you around.”

His fingers twined around hers softly. He could be so hard and angry one moment and tender and heartbreaking the next. The boy was a real sociopath, but then again, so was she. 

“It doesn’t count if you don’t get off on it,” he said.

That was the truth of it. Logan didn’t drink like he did when Lilly was gone. Or maybe he did when Veronica wasn’t around. That concerned her.

“Do you?” She could tell his question wasn’t serious. 

“It was a game,” Veronica said slowly.

“And?”

And Logan knew that Veronica didn’t do that. She used to wear pink and flow-y skirts, but that much hadn’t changed when she changed to boots and denim. The only games she played were undercover. There was enough duplicity in her professional life. Doing it in her personal was dirty.

Doing it to him was wrong.

And Lilly had been vicious. She had more love in her heart for the memory of Lilly than anything, but it had been unfair. Veronica knew that. Logan had been more of Lilly’s property than anything else. It hadn’t been the kind of jealousy that was sparked by passion. 

(The passion of Logan’s fists.)

Lilly’s had made a cold, calculating move over the threat over someone else putting their hands on her things.

When Veronica touched Logan, her hands were soft and he kissed her with tenderness as well as hunger.

“I’m not _impressed_.” She wished he didn’t smile at her knowingly like that. She wanted to scream that he could even think that.

“You’re not pushing me away either,” he said, kissing the webbing between her fingers.

She wanted to beat sense into him but she wasn’t running. If anything she would hold him tight and restrain him from hurting himself, the idiot.

“What did I do, Veronica?” His voice had that quality and it made her skin crawl. That someone could be so vulnerable and honest with her, when she thought all candidness was gone forever. When no one ever stayed. That someone could care that much.

“Don’t die.”

That’s all she said. 

_Don’t leave_ would be more accurate. She would survive but she couldn’t imagine the consequences someone reaped because of her. If something happened to this stupid boy, someone else would get hurt. By her. She knew that much. 

He threw her that cocky grin that she loathed. 

“Yeah, someday.” Poor little rich boy.

“Not today,” she said firmly. She should slap him. “Not impressed.”

He raised his eyebrows doubtfully. He was too good at provoking reactions. 

“It’s so easy for you,” she said. “Throwing your weight around.”

Logan shrugged. “Got to assert my macho dominance. After all, don’t you love the smell of testosterone in the morning?”

So _that_ was her problem. Damn her penchant for being an adrenaline junkie. His mouth quirked at the side, mirroring her own.

“It’s night.”

“It’s just how it works,” he said. “You’re the brains, I’m the brawn.”

At least he had his looks and wit going for him.

“So trust my brain when I say that it’s unnecessary.” 

“But oh so entertaining.”

“Are you entertained with a black eye?”

“A black eye?” Logan scoffed. “Please. Not even a cracked rib. Barely a scratch.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to make a sport out of it.” 

His face lost its jaunty playfulness. “It’s not sport.” 

“What?” she asked gently.

He tucked his hands behind his head, almost glaring at the ceiling.

“It just happens.”

She wondered if it had to do with his Echolls blood, but still would never fear for her life. He just had the bloodlust and ten other kinds of lust, to be sure.

“Why?” 

He reached up and tucked a piece of hair back. She felt it all in his touch.

She didn't now how she had fallen for someone so sentimental. Either that, or he didn't like the way that guy was looking at her in this dress. (Scratch that, it was both things, and Logan always had a way with people. He showed his sentiment in the strangest way. Sentiment led to sex apparently.)

So she cried and he hit people. Recipe for success. Then again they were the crazy epic love. Never a dull moment.

“You promised blood shed,” she remarked.

“And you bring the lives ruined,” he grinned again.

Recipe for success.


End file.
